


the elephant in the room

by etoilette



Series: Kinktober 2020 [15]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bad Cooking, Crack, Food Fight, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: Day #15 of Kinktober: Armpit Kink"Everyone makes mistakes their first time cooking," Haru pipes up. "Why, I remember my first time making miso soup, I—""This isn't my first time cooking.""—actually didn't put konbu, I put....excuse me?"There is a distinct tremor running through Akechi's body as he walks over to the rice cooker, shoving Yusuke out of the way with his shoulder, and takes the pot out of the machine, staring down at it as if it had personally offended him."This isn't my first time cooking rice. Again, stop trying to shower me with your infantile sympathy. I messed up, and I deserve anything you throw my way. This isn't some pathetic amateur's mistake. I'm a cursed child. Everything I touch turns into trash."
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Series: Kinktober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949695
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	the elephant in the room

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Tags: Vomit Mention
> 
> The elephant in the room is zojirushi. 
> 
> Please forgive me but I just couldn't stop thinking about that stupid armpit rice thing on Twitter.

In all of Akira's time in Leblanc...Actually, scrap that. In all of Akira's time alive, he has never seen rice this sad before. It's an off-white, closer to grey than anything, with an oddly mushy texture that would be more in-place with Western porridge. There is a strange smell emanating from the rice cooker, similar to the stench of Ryuji's socks after a day of training at the gym.

It's...not great. In fact, Akira doubts he would eat it even if Akechi gave him ten million yen, and he knows that he's not the only one. The girls are huddled together in a corner, staring at the food like it's a cockroach instead of a pot of rice. Ryuji looks like he's having a hernia with how much he's grabbing at his stomach. Akira isn't sure if Ryuji is trying to hold back his bile or his laughter.

The only person in the room who looks like he's having a good time is Yusuke, who is walking around the pot to look at it from every angle, his fingers out in front of him like frames.

"This is amazing," he says calmly. "How did you manage this avant-garde piece of art using just water and rice?"

"Y-Yusuke!" Makoto hisses, looking cautiously at Akechi. "You shouldn't say something like that!"

"Ah....ahahaha! Akechi-kun, it sure does look yummy!" Ann exclaims, sounding like the words are being torn out of her by pliers.

Akechi has been suspiciously silent the whole time, and Akira can't resist glancing at him in case he needs to come up with an excuse to get everyone out of Leblanc before an Akechi Atomic Explosion. He's standing by the side, closer to the washroom than the kitchen, a polite smile on his face that does nothing to hide the angry trembling of his fists. He looks completely unaffected by the situation, which of course, is a very obvious tell that he's either beating himself up on the inside, or dissociating to escape the inherent shame of not being able to make rice with a machine dedicated to make rice.

"Please don't mock me," Akechi says cheerily. "I know that it's a failure. Your sympathy is only making everything much worse."

"Oh..." Ann deflates, looking morose.

"Everyone makes mistakes their first time cooking," Haru pipes up. "Why, I remember my first time making miso soup, I—"

"This isn't my first time cooking."

"—actually didn't put konbu, I put....excuse me?"

There is a distinct tremor running through Akechi's body as he walks over to the rice cooker, shoving Yusuke out of the way with his shoulder, and takes the pot out of the machine, staring down at it as if it had personally offended him.

"This isn't my first time cooking rice. Again, stop trying to shower me with your infantile sympathy. I messed up, and I deserve anything you throw my way. This isn't some pathetic amateur's mistake. I'm a cursed child. Everything I touch turns into trash."

Ryuji can't hold it back anymore. He guffaws, practically wheezing with laughter, throwing his head back and all. Akira notes distantly that he would have preferred it if Ryuji simply threw up right then and there. At least they'd be cleaning up an actual mess rather than a metaphorical one. Ryuji points at Akechi and screeches, "Dude, buddy, _what?!_ Just how did you mess up this bad?"

"I don't know," Akechi grits out furiously but when he turns to look at Ryuji, that eerie TV-friendly smile is still plastered onto his face. "If I knew, don't you think I would take measures to stop such failures from happening?"

Ryuji wipes a tear away from his eye, still grinning from ear to ear. Akira doesn't think he's seen his friend laugh quite so much in a long time now. The fact that it's at _Akechi's_ expense is most definitely adding to his mirth.

"C'mere," Akira says, gesturing to Akechi, who is still holding onto the full pot of rice. "I'll show you where we toss food waste."

"What?" Akechi says, backing up. He shoots Akira a stink eye. "No. Give me a spoon and I'll eat it myself. I can't believe you would waste food like —"

But whatever else he wanted to say is drowned out by the former Phantom Thieves yelling at the top of their lungs.

"No, how could you —"

"What are you —"

"I don't understand the problem? I would —"

"Akechi, are you _serious_ right now? You —"

"What?!" Akechi snaps. He sets the pot down resolutely and starts rummaging through the drawers. For a detective he must have never actually paid much attention to anything that Akira did in the kitchen, because he's looking in completely the wrong spot. "This is food and this is my responsibility. None of you have to sit here with me while I do this. Just leave me alone and let me clean up my own mess."

He's getting closer and closer to the silverware drawer and there is a fervent determination in his eyes. Akira's seen the exact same look on Akechi's face across from him in a cold windowless room, and Akira knows that he's absolutely not going to back down. Akechi is going to eat the rice and he's probably going to poison himself because he's such an idiot, and oh god, what is Akira even going to say to Sojiro if he comes back to see a dead body in his kissaten.

In retrospect, Akira isn't sure why he did it, and he knows immediately that this is one of those incidents that his friends will never let him live down. At his wedding ceremony years down the line, they'll bring it up during their speeches to him and his future partner will leave him right there at the altar.

Akira rushes forward right as Akechi opens the silverware drawer. He pulls out a spoon triumphantly but right before he turns back to the rice pot, Akira angles his body so he's blocking Akechi's way and he grabs a fistful of the rice. It feels warm and soggy and mushy in his hand, like he's holding microwaved baby food rather than rice, and some of the grains stick to his sweaty palm as he hurls the handful through the air.

It didn't matter to Akira what he hit — the wall, Ann's face, the table... anything was fair game. It just so happened that Ryuji's arms were up, crossed behind his head as he watched Akechi like Akechi is a particularly exciting sports match.

It's like everything was in slow motion, like Akira's Third Eye is open. He sees Ryuji's eyes widen. He hears the frantic and confused shouts of his friends. He feels Akechi's angry grip on his shoulder. The rice flies through the air, the grains sticking together surprisingly well despite how loose and watery it had felt in Akira's hand, and lands straight into Ryuji's armpit.

"Oh, gross!" Ann screams, as if she had been the victim.

"That was amazing," Yusuke comments. Akira isn't sure when exactly Yusuke pulled it out, but he has his sketchbook in one hand and his pencil in another, furiously scribbling down _something_. "Would it be too much to ask that you two do that one more time?"

Akira ignores him. Ignores Ryuji's horrified yells. He turns to Akechi, who is staring at Ryuji with wide eyes. He looks absolutely aghast, with his pale skin and trembling lips.

"Well?" Akira asks, and Akechi's gaze darts to him. "I don't mind dumping the entire contents of this pot into Ryuji's armpits."

"Bro, _what!?"_ Ryuji yelps. " _I_ mind, considering they're _my pits!"_

"If you want to eat this rice so bad, you'll have to eat it off of Ryuji's armpits," Akira continues as if he didn't hear him. "You still want to go for it?"

Akechi pales even further, and he holds a hand to his mouth, looking legitimately so disgusted that Akira backs out of the way in case Akechi needs to flee to the washroom.

"It's fine," he manages. "I'm...still not happy with how you just wasted food like that but...not even I'm that desperate."

Ryuji is wiping off the rice as best as he can with his hands, looking more and more frantic as he realizes that the rice is practically super-glued to his skin. "What is this shit? It's not coming off at all!"

Yusuke runs over, leaning in so close that he's practically pressing his nose against Ryuji's armpit. "This must be a fascinating experience. How does it feel, Ryuji?"

"Uhh..." Ryuji stops, a look of contemplation on his face as he holds his arms up. "I don't know. Kind of warm? It's kind of —" he grimaces "—comforting."

"Interesting," Yusuke hums. There is a silence in the room as everyone ruminates on the knowledge that rice in armpits can be anything other than disgustingly uncomfortable. Then Yusuke reaches out with his tongue and laps the rice into his mouth.

Ann screeches. Makoto, Futaba and Haru hold their hands to their mouths. In Makoto's case, horror is clear in her expression, whereas Futaba and Haru look like they're barely biting back their laughter.

"Dude!" screams Ryuji. He backs away until his back hits the wall. "The rice itself ain't so bad but...dude! That was in my _pits_!"

Yusuke doesn't answer, chewing with a thoughtful look on his face. His cheeks are puffed like a squirrel's as he rolls the rice around in his mouth, as if he's a professional food taster. He swallows and holds a hand to his chin, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"It's quite good," Yusuke says. "It tastes similar to the sushi that we had that day in Ginza. Ah, what fond memories I have of that meal. It would be a most intriguing experience to feel this in my armpits like Ryuji did."

"What?" Akira asks.

"Excuse me?" Akechi says, sounding faint.

Yusuke rips his shirt off and raises his arms above his head. He yells, "Now Akira, I'm ready! Throw your passion at me!"

Akira turns back to the pot to prepare a rice-ball for Yusuke and he glances in Akechi's direction as he does so.

His mouth is twisted in either laughter or disgust, and he certainly doesn't look happy. But when Akira smiles and backs away from the rice, gesturing for Akechi to go ahead, he doesn't hesitate in grabbing a ball of rice and lobbing it right into Yusuke's face.


End file.
